Reminiscence
by La Fata Aurora
Summary: /AU-Squinoa/ They both thought each other dead, and now, many years later, they found themselves ruling rival kingdoms. She thought he left her to die. He punished himself for being unable to save her. But Fate has a plan for them: they meet again in the fault lines of war, however this time, they were no longer the wide eyed youths with rose colored glasses...
1. Chapter 1: Fifteen

**REMINISCENCE**

By _La Fata Aurora_

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Final Fantasy characters and names used below are owned by Squaresoft/Square-Enix. I have no connection with them whatsoever and this fanfiction is but a lowly figment of my imagination. Please enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One: Fifteen

As I looked down pass my hands, the flowing skirt of my best cotton dress danced with the cool wind of that memorable afternoon. My hands were shaking, and my face felt hot…I wasn't even quite sure if everything was real.

My heart beat so fast, it was getting hard to breathe.

I checked my reflection on a nearby stream—flowers were pinned on my hair; it was Rikku's idea. She'd said that her boyfriend thought them beautiful on her, so she thought that it would also look pretty on me too. They were daisies, from the backyard, and they brought out the intricate twists of the hair that I spent long hours braiding. I really thought that they looked pretty.

I'd hoped that he felt the same way too…

So I waited, like we talked about. Under the tallest tree I would wait for him. I was happy during those delicate moments; I have never done it before, and it seemed like every girl in the village anticipated this day. They came home elated, with a fixed smile on their beautiful faces. I wanted to be happy too…just like them.

"Rinoa!" I turned around, and I found him climbing up the the rocky slope that led to the tree. He was panting, his brown hair was a little matted with sweat, but his smile was undeniable…

Did he think that I wasn't going to come?

"Here." Before I could say anything, he came before me and reached out his hand. His hand was balled into a fist, and coming out of it were thin wisps of rope. "Remember?" He added, quite hopefully.

It was the 'Tear'.

* * *

"RIN!"

Rikku shouted, her blonde braids billowing with the wind. She looked flushed, like she'd been running for a while, and as she came to me her eyes grew ominously worried. She pulled me out from the group of washers by the lake and dragged me into a clearing. She refused to talk while she's at it, as if revealing herself prematurely would cause the village to collapse.

"It's Mathu!" Rikku whispered fiercely, looking at me from head to foot, "He's back!"

I froze. Mathu?

"You have to go home! I'd finish your laundry for you, don't worry about it!"

And I ran, as fast as I could. I don't remember for how long, for the next thing I knew, I was breathing heavily in front of our doorstep, confused. Anger just hadn't settled in…it was too sudden!

"MOTHER!" I yelled, pushing the straw door open. It was unusually quiet in the house, unusually quiet like the calm before a storm. My hands shook in realization of what's about to happen, but its not out of fear…it's something else. I couldn't put my finger on it. I walked into the house, straight to my mother's room…

…and there she was, huddled in a corner while Mathu, with that sinister face, stood above her probably threatening her again, and again like he always does.

"Where does she keep it now?" Mathu murmured terrifyingly. He always does that, murmuring. He was quiet, so quiet that many of the villagers didn't believe that he's capable of beating my mother. He was a conniving fake, a drunk and the lowest form of scum. He's always away and never provides for the family. The only time when he comes back is when he's out of money…which is probably why he's here.

"We don't have any more! Remember? You just took everything!" I told him, pushing past his big profile to reach for Mother. She was quaking. "So go away! Leave us alone!"

Mathu pulled a low chair and smashed it on the wall.

"Don't lie to me, you little bitch!" His grubby hand found my arm, and he yanked me away from Mother. Mother began crying, to the point of screaming, but Mathu just planted a wild slap on her face.

I shook with that sight, but I can't…I can't let Mathu see.

"Where is it?!" His bloodcurdling voice was like hot venom on my face. It smelled awful, like rotten flesh mixed with alcohol and dirt. He shook me like the act would open up the alleged secret hiding place. His smell was making me dizzy.

"I've nothing to say because we don't have it!" I bit out as forcefully as I could, jerking myself away from his grasps. I felt him pull up my hair and shove me to the wall. My cheek hurt, and I tasted blood on the corner of my lip.

"Mathu!" Mother screamed. I don't know what she's doing because my back was facing her, but it somehow annoyed the drunkard to have him spit on her.

"Where is it?" He asked again, thrusting me harder into the wall. I closed my eyes, the rough wood scratching the side of my face and body. He shoved my head again, ramming my forehead this time. I wanted to cry, but everything in me seemed frozen…

Mathu roughly gathered my wrists with his free hand. He pushed me deeper to the wall. It was so forceful that it squeezed my chest, making it hard to breathe. I swallowed, hoping that it might help, but it just made me realize how painful my position really was.

"Speak to me now girl, because I could still push some more." He made his threat apparent by shoving me again. I felt my throat close up. I was now really getting dizzy.

"STOP THIS MATHU! You're hurting my daughter!"

Mathu smirked, "Heh. You're still wishing that she was, huh?"

"HEY! Put her down!"

_I couldn't breathe…_

"You sonofa—!"

_My head…_

"Who do you think you are?!"

_It's…spinning…_

"I'm her **betrothed**, you bastard!"

_Everything else…_

_…I don't remember._

* * *

"Rinoa," Mother came in with a big basket from the market. She looked a little happier compared to yesterday, and for some reason, the gleam on her eyes were back, "the sheets should be dry now. Why don't you take them down from the clothesline?"

"Uh-ok." I gingerly hopped from a low stool that I used to clean the corners of the roof. The festival was fast approaching now, and everybody in the village was preparing by first cleaning their houses.

It wasn't a sunny day today, but it was warm enough to hang our laundry out to dry under the sun. I scratched my bruise unconsciously while I rounded to the back of the house. Our neighbor waved at me in hello—Old Grata was also cheerful today, must be the festivities.

Mother would usually take the sheets down herself because they were heavy, but today, I guess she'd so much to do that she'd finally let me do it. Dragging our clean laundry basket nearer with me, I started pulling.

It wasn't as bad as I thought.

"Rin."

My eyes turned wide.

"Hey…" I trailed off, my face turning red. That instantaneous moment not too long ago…I still haven't forgotten…

It was quick, yet so foreign…

"_I'm her betrothed…_", it echoed inside my head.

I turned to face him.

"I have something for you." He said, smiling.

It was a bunch of daisies.

"For me?"

"You had them on your hair when we promised to meet up on the hill." He explained. He seemed to be more confident now, that he patted the top of my head after I received the flowers. "How are you?"

"I'm alright." Unconsciously, I tried covering the ugly mark on my cheek. It was turning purple now, compared to the distinctive red that it was days ago.

"Mother and I are cleaning for the festival. She even brought a big basket from the market." I managed to smile, and he probably took it as a sign because he lifted his hand to take away the hand on my cheek.

"I could have come earlier…" he began, quietly.

I looked at him, in alarm.

"No—" he placed his hands on my shoulders, like what he was about to say terribly needed to go through, "I _could_ have. I _should_ have! Listen to me, _we're promised_. I have responsibilities as your betrothed…I—I wouldn't fail again. I give you my word."

"Okay." I nodded solemnly, looking into his eyes. I felt safe; it was like looking to the heavenly blue skies and it was warm and a little…fuzzy. "But I don't want you blaming yourself for what Mathu had done. You couldn't have stopped him. He's always out of himself."

"No more…" He took me into his arms, brushing a soft kiss on my temple. I looked at the white rumpled half of the sheet on the ground.

"I'm sorry…" it was added quite desperately.

I frowned. A little corner of the sheet got soiled. Helplessly, I let the sheet go. I could always wash it again.

"Just stay close to me…everytime you can." I whispered, raising my arms to cling on his back. "I wouldn't want anything else…"

He gave out a sigh of relief.

_I'd never love that way again._

* * *

The dirt road towards the Man House was busy that afternoon, so Mother allowed me to go and watch the men of the village train on the connected yard behind the stone building. Men of a certain age were required to choose a weapon that they'd keep for life, with which they swear to protect their family and town in times of need. Many of the boys of my age choose the bow for some reason, then the spear, and only a handful dared opted for the blade.

_He_ chose the blade.

I was ecstatic.

"Rin!" Rikku waved from below a waiting shed a few houses before our destination. We promised the other day to meet up and go to the Man House together, just like many youths in the village do. It wasn't exactly acceptable for young women to visit the training ground without a chaperone, so we solved the problem by inviting Roxas, her little cousin, to come along.

Roxas was not training in the Man House for a special reason. Yes, he is of age—thirteen—but at age nine he showed promise of summoning the Elementals. Children and adults given this gift were not required to choose their weapon unless they wanted to. Nevertheless, Roxas chose the bow, and with special privilege gets to skip and choose the training days of his own liking.

"Gippal showed me an easier way to attach the fletching on my arrows." Roxas proudly adjusted the strap of his quiver, showing the newly attached blue and green fletchings on his arrows. He made a quick zigzag into the middle of the road, leading their little group to a small clearing that opened up as people made way for an arriving caravan. "Heh…Pyreulrosa is really coming, huh?"

The girls smiled, both of them visually following the colorful carriages and people. Perhaps the memories of their previous Pyreulrosas crossed their minds, and for a second they completely forgot about the Man House.

Rikku sighed dreamily, "Huuuuuh…I wonder what I'd ask Ifrit this time?"

"You always ask for the same thing, Rikku." I laughingly reminded her, and the younger girl blushed, "Gippal never looks at another girl, thanks to Ifrit."

Roxas snickered, much to Rikku chagrin.

"Well, have you thought about what to ask for yourself, Rinoa?" Hoping to get the attention off her, Rikku switched the topic almost too insistently.

"Hmm…" I shook her head. "I should be thinking about it soon, right?"

"Definitely. The festival is less than a week away, and if you don't hurry, you'd be too busy to even think about it!" Rikku slid her arm around mine, pulling me towards Roxas' lead. The Man House was now visible from where we are, that we could see people crowding around the training area in the back.

"Must be a wildly anticipated match!" Roxas exclaimed, watching the crowd grow thicker and thicker with interest. He clutched his bow and quiver closer to his chest, disappearing into the crowd within seconds. Rikku cringed her nose in disapproval.

"Men!" Mimicking her mother, she crossed her arms in disgust. "How can he just leave us like that? What if a thief shows us and—"

"It's the Guardian! The Guardian is choosing an apprentice!" Roxas popped his head before the rest of his body came out of the crowd. Almost too enthusiastically did he pull me in a maze of people, each one shaking with high expectations for the impending match.

"Rikku!" I quickly grabbed my friend's arm before Roxas successfully yanked me in. The buzz of excitement was really evident, and was compounded by the fact that the training ground was unusually empty. Rikku was in the middle of complaining about her elbow when Roxas stopped yanking, finding us a spot that clearly showed a good portion of the battlefield.

"Roxas?" He turned to me, "Who's the Guardian?"

"Oh…" Roxas looked like he finally realized something. Women do not directly associate themselves with the workings of the Man House, so it is quite rare for a young girl to know about its celebrities.

"The Guardian is a survivor of the wars of past. He is the village's greatest warrior, and every year he chooses an apprentice to be trained under his personal supervision." Roxas scratched the back of his head, looking around like what he was about to say made him uncomfortable, "And legends say, " he kept his voice low, with lips close enough not to seem moving at all, "that he gets his power out from his Griever."

"A Griever?!" My eyes turned wide. The Griever is a sign of punishment, penance by the sinner through branding an object of importance to one's body, thus making it a part of one's self. Many people consider it as shameful, for only people with terrible sins could want to repent for eternity!

"What did I miss? What did I miss?!" Rikku interrupted, wiggling in between her cousin and me. She looked completely lost, giving us a sad look that said that she only came here for Gippal and not a bunch of sweaty people huddling for a gorey man-sport.

"HERE HE COMES!"

Somebody has spotted the red ribbon, the bearer being the chosen hopeful about to undergo the final test to win the Guardian's blessing. The crowd cheered, an awful lot bouncing up and down in undeniable excitement while others made loud whistling and clapping sounds. Rikku became even more sullen by the behavior she just witnessed, in contrast to her little cousin's obvious participation in the rowdy activity.

"Who is he?" The question exploded. The bearer was coming out of the poorly lighted insides of the Man House, but from our perspective, it was too soon to know. Before we could assess him further, the man they called Guardian came from behind, walking ahead of him. A rope was painfully branded on his forehead, and went all the way down to his neck and around the nape—his Griever. On his right bandaged arm, he held a beautifully crafted blade, which shone into sea-blue under the striking rays of the sun. I heard the word "Brotherhood" circulated among the spectators as it did, and Roxas informed me that it was how it was called.

"It was a gift from the King of Galbadia. The Guardian has been enlisted in many of his conquests down the South, all of which he survived." Roxas pointed out a finger, "You see that red cloth tied on the hilt? It used to be a part of the King's ceremonial cape, and he commissioned it to be torn apart and be divided among the best warriors bearing his colors…pretty amazing, huh?"

"OH-MY-YEVON." Rikku froze, appearing spooked. She turned her head mechanically, stopping as it turned towards my direction before her trembling lips dropped open. "It's…"

The crowd cheered.

I looked…and I fainted.

* * *

A/N: Hey all!  
I posted this story before under a different nom de plume, so in case anybody recognizes it, please don't call the PLAGIARISM POLICE! ^_^ I have rebooted the plot a bit, however, it won't be apparent until several chapters later.

Please read and review! Thank you for your time!

**_-LFA-_**


	2. Chapter 2 : Repercussions

**REMINISCENCE**

By _La Fata Aurora_

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Final Fantasy characters and names used below are owned by Squaresoft/Square-Enix. I have no connection with them whatsoever and this fanfiction is but a lowly figment of my imagination. Please enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two: Repercussions

**THIRTEEN YEARS LATER**

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

I swung and hit hard; the feverish metal was met by a plate of iron shield. The reverberating sound made the hairs all over my body stand, and I relished each beat of my heart as it seemed to become more and more alive as the echo washed all over me…

My senses were in full alert. The heavy weight of my blade driving them into an almost frenzy. I ducked away from the next blow, and then twisted my wrist for a fuller, stronger counterattack. The impact blew my opponent away, throwing him off balanced and a few meters back. He shot me a look after he had regained focus. I smiled.

A déjà vu…

…dating thirteen years back.

"Very well done as always," Jecht stabbed the dirt with his Brotherhood, looking back at me from his defeated position on the ground, "Your Majesty."

I whipped my blade off before sheathing it back on my belt. I extended an arm to Jecht, who accepted it without his usual sorry excuse for self-preservation. The man was getting old, but he was not anywhere near the vicinity of turning foolish. He knew when to applaud, when to reserve judgment and when to criticize. Although I must say that it was a long way to get here, in when the three categories are at best well balanced.

"Maybe you can _finally_ teach me a thing or two now, huh?"

Perhaps…'well balanced' was still too much to hope for.

The hour was over, and I bid my old friend goodbye. I felt his eyes on my back as I walked away—he always did that, watching over me when he thought I was unguarded. I let him. He was my only connection to the world that I've lost after all these years. That world, which I let slip from these same hands that now wielded the great Lionheart, is very much missed. Poignantly, I would always see it in my dreams, so clear that it seemed almost real.

My left shoulder hurt.

She was still calling out to me.

_Just stay close to me…_

…_Every time you can…_

_I wouldn't want anything else._

Then there was the fire. It was all around me. I couldn't breathe…I was just too weak. The red columns roared as I reached out, but the body of the youth just couldn't take more of the trauma. The stench of blood was suffocating me. My mind screamed. I felt so helpless. I've promised her countless of times before. I've slapped her with pledges of protection. And still I failed.

_I wouldn't fail again. I give you my word…_

I could still hear her voice calling for me.

The Griever. It made me breathe again. It made my life bearable through those times when I dreamt of her. Her face. Her bright smile. It was the most righteous penance that I could think of—anything less would not suffice. The pain of the searing, of the coupling, made me feel whole and reconnected to the hallow shell that was my body. I felt human, humbled, flawed.

I…grew up.

I sighed, surveying the skies from where I stood. The day was still too young to be besmirched by the works of men. It was not too often that I get to stand alone surrounded by nothingness, and, ironically, this I appreciated for its novelty.

Quietude was my opium, derailing me from the person that I came to be.

_SQUALL!_

I could still hear her voice calling out for me.

* * *

"Of course." Selphie Tilmitt clasped her trembling hands together. Ladies-in-waiting to Her Highness never sweat under stress, but now she did. Profusely.

"I would promptly relay the message, thank you."

Sharply turning around, collecting her piles of skirts, the very perturbed brunette walked briskly along the richly carpeted corridor of the Queen's Wing. Her head was spinning with dread coupled by the vestiges of last night's all-nighter. Surely, she had the right to panic. She was, afterall, a normal human being.

"Dammit." She hit her fist on the plane of her other palm. Slowing down, she began pacing. The Queen's Quarters were not too far away, so she had to think quickly and precisely. The Queen would be expecting her any minute now, and any delay of her return would elicit undue apprehension on Her Highness' part. On the flip side, mindlessly relaying the message would equally cause the Queen unwarranted misery, unless Selphie does something to alleviate the consequences somehow.

"Hyne…" She exhaled sharply, preparing for the worst. The urgency of the message made it impossible for her to consider buying some time. It would be pointless to defer and then eventually inspire more trouble. The Queen was also not the type of person who appreciates coddling, especially when the exaggerated effort concerns the good of her people.

"Selphie." The Queen called from her chambers, with which Selphie winced, caught red-handed. She was not in the least prepared—the Queen was just too precious for her to devastate—for she knows as well as the prior courier that the message they now possess would alter the course of Galbadia's history forever.

Left with no other choice, the lady-in-waiting reluctantly dragged her heels in front of the grand twin doors leading to the royal chamber. Catching her breath, she made a push into the room…sunlight momentarily blinding her eyes.

"Selphie." The Queen repeated, more softly this time. Selphie found her standing by the curtains after her eyes have finally adjusted to the flood of light, and the sight of her just made her heart ache even more.

She need not say a work. The Queen already knew.

"Yes, Highness?" she curtsied, unable to look directly into her eyes.

"I have something that I want you to do for me."

"Anything, Milady."

"Bring Rexes to me." She paused, as if to find the right words, "I need to speak with my son."

"I shall arrange for the Prince's immediate audience, Milady."

The Queen nodded in acknowledgement, and with it Selphie was gone.

_Why? _

The Queen closed her eyes. She felt something stir inside her; an inexplicable twisting feeling, and it was gnawing her deepest core. It was not remorse—that she was sure of—and most certainly it wasn't relief, for her loss was momentous. But no matter what it is, it stroked her inner being…and piqued her curiosity.

Steadily, she left her spot beside the curtains and walked towards the intricately crafted cradle by her worktable. Her fingers gently touched the ruffled exterior, and then passed the edges festooned with pearls, rubies and other precious stones. She smiled as she stopped the aimless journey that her hands were making, her loving brown eyes resting on the sight of a small cherub taking a nap from her 'celestial duties'.

"My darling…" She whispered, her voice raspy. The little angel shoved a chubby finger inside her mouth, inspiring a little bubble of laughter from her mother. "Sleep tight..."

"Mother is always here for you…"

She reached out to cuddle her child, careful enough not wake her peaceful sleep. The mere touch of their skins was enough for her to connect with the tranquility that was her exterior. This child and Rexes…they made her feel reborn. They completed her quest for a new life, a fresh start from the murky past that used to haunt her for several years. Her king was also kind enough to let her keep her dwindling pace, and he forever supported all of her endeavors, idiosyncratic or otherwise. Their children were the centrifugal force that drove her dissipating life into a full circle, hoisting her from the weak, shambling girl who lost her spirit together with a childish dream, and transforming her to a strong, resilient woman wiser beyond her years.

All these years, she had proven herself fit to be Galbadia's mistress. It was not a simple task, but she had survived through Hell and over, a victory that reinforced her belief that she was capable of many things—that she was more than just the young, crying ruffian that left Balamb pitifully devastated. That girl was already dead. She died along with the charred remains of the village that she once loved and everything that reminded her of it, including a wild foolish dream of pure metaphysical love. There is no such thing as that. People change, and with change so will their emotions. Love, therefore, is ephemeral. It is but an evanescent need that molds accordingly to the bearer. It is one-sided; an emotion perceived based on the same bearer's purview that hardly coincides with the purview of the object of affection. It must just be a jest; a comforting idea developed for humans to cling on, to fight against the nuances of life.

And for those who knew better, it is a lesson to be learned—love is a wonderful idea…and it is best just to keep it that way.

The Queen, with her child, approached the bright glass windows with narrowed eyes. She patted the baby's back unconsciously, staring at the skies as the first figments of high morning activity began to cloud audibly from somewhere inside the palace.

"Oh Seifer…"

The Queen sighed, closing her eyes.

"Why did you have to go?"

* * *

Author's Notes

Dear Readers,

First of all, thank you for coming back and reading the second chapter of the story. I really hope that I entertained you in some kind of way. I just wanted to explain myself at this point, knowing that the succession of scenes are a bit disjointed: if you do not understand what's going on, don't panic, I intended it to be that way. Hopefully, Chapter 3 would answer some of your questions.

And also, I apologize for the extremely short chapter. It just had to be done.

_**-LFA-**_


	3. Chapter 3: Crescendo

**REMINISCENCE**

By _La Fata Aurora_

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Final Fantasy characters and names used below are owned by Squaresoft/Square-Enix. I have no connection with them whatsoever and this fanfiction is but a lowly figment of my imagination. Please enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Three: Crescendo

Balthier Bunansa, in his seventh year of office as a Judge for the Hyperion Court, was not in any way agitated with the current proceedings of the Imperial House…or so he was. He flipped his pocket watch to look at the time—more out of a habit than curiosity—before he finally heard the presence of another, who was striding toward him in brief yet reassured steps. He waited patiently for the other person to introduce himself, and was met by the satisfaction that she did, in a significantly hesitating manner to boot.

"Queen Mother…the reason for your audience escapes me."

The reply might be a little rude, but in times of turmoil the lines of courtesy are pretty much muddled that nobody actually cared. The Dowager Queen was not an exception. She practically ignored his 'insolent' outburst. She even began without much of a preamble.

"I need your help, Balthier. You have faithfully served my son and his wife all these years. Now that the King…" Edea's impenetrable façade gave a little shake—an event that Balthier never thought possible in his lifetime, "is gone, Rexes has to be securely crowned for the throne. Together, my daughter-in-law and I are not enough to push for Regency. We need your endorsement for ensured success."

Balthier highly doubted that. The Almasies just needed a mascot in the Court. The Queen alone could take down any defying Magistrate or Judge with her own bare hands, so just imagine what she could do with the help of the Dowager.

"I appreciate your esteem in my performance, Highness, however, I still could not fathom how my little self could have qualified for such an enormous task." Balthier saw the Dowager narrow her eyes. To assess or out of old age, he wasn't quite sure. "I am certain that many others could have fitted the job description better than I did, and yet, I have your valued audience today."

"Fishing for compliments, aren't we, Judge Bunansa?"

"Of course not." Balthier looked offended. Taking his own sweet time to formulate a proper response, he pushed his hands inside his pockets, mentally weighing his options, "It's just that, as I can clearly recall, my continued presence in the Court aggravates you."

Edea was not going to deny that, her intention evident on her face, "Nonetheless my opinion of your personal life is not relevant to my grandson's proper succession to the throne now, isn't it?" She flipped her fan open, making her hands busy enough so as not to attempt to strangle him, "I am not here to fight…I trust that my daughter-in-law would uphold her dignity with or without her husband present. I am here for Rexes, and for Galbadia."

Balthier twitched his lips together. He never intended to reject the offer anyway.

"Am I making myself clear, Judge Bunansa?"

"Crystal clear, Highness."

"And would you now agree to help us?"

"I was not planning on bailing out to begin with, My Queen."

"Very well," Edea looked pleased. Bidding goodbye, she seemed as if on yet another mission to rally more Judges on her side, "Seifer would have been delighted with your decision."

Balthier didn't say anything. Flexing his fingers inside his pockets, he watched the aging widow depart with more confidence than he ever saw her before. Edea Lashikia Almasy is a force to be reckoned with, and old age wasn't stopping her in any way. Like what was to happen to the present queen, she had been Galbadia's Regent until Hyperion was old enough to be on his own, but even then the King would still seek council from his mother every now and then. This exact same woman also molded the present Queen as how she is now—strong, bold and unflinching—and she had perfected the deed even before Galbadia saw the need for it. Intuitive and beyond the times, Edea was Galbadia's living treasure, for without her dedication and undying resolve, the Empire could have been easily dissolved by the Estharians many years before.

_The Estharians would have gotten wind of this by now. The Queen must be settled to Regency as soon as possible. _Balthier thought, taking his first steps to the door. He smiled at the thought of the young Queen, for she has been his private delight from the moment he first set eyes on her. Who would have thought that she'd turn into the queen that she is today?

Walking down the path to the main palace, Balthier focused on the current 'diplomatic' issues among the Empire and her neighbors. Zanarkand has always remained neutral, and their neutrality stems out of their comfortable alliance with Rabanastre, who in turn is very well acquainted with the kingdoms of the East. Galbadia's ties with the West was never a problem, and Midgar, like, Zanarkand, remains apathetic unless her own boundaries have been mindlessly meddled with, which, in Balthier's opinion, would endure beautifully until necessary. The only persisting problem with the Empire's international relations is, and forever had been, Northward, where the punitive Estharians reside. The competition between the two kingdoms have existed as far as seven generations before Hyperion, and most of the history recorded had been harsh, and often times brutally unimaginable even to an accustomed mind. In spite of that, these 'nobles' have successfully kept the feud going that to this day, it seemed like the rivalry is going nowhere but to worse.

Selphie Tilmitt appeared without her usual appointment sash when Balthier spotted her walking with the Prince before the ascending steps to the Queen's rooms. She looked completely uneasy and almost unkempt by palace standards, that the Judge felt sorry for the girl. It must be because the next few months would be difficult for the Queen, and that the lady-in-waiting was anticipating the worse. What she didn't know was, the Queen shouldn't be underestimated, for she would undoubtedly shine with Edea and a couple of Judges' help.

"Your Highness, Lady Tilmitt." Balthier bowed in greeting, with which the two responded curtly. The Prince gave a quiet acknowledging nod fitting his stature, while Selphie made a low curtsy required of her. "May I join you?"

"I don't mind." Nine-year-old Rexes Elecxid Almasy replied, his face masked with an unusual semblance inappropriate for a boy his age. Although Balthier understood the grief that must be etching in his heart, the Prince's cold demeanor must not be allowed to eclipse his usual optimistic perspective of the world around him. Balthier took a mental note of that to be discussed later on with his mother.

"The Queen wishes to speak with the Prince privately, Judge Bunansa. I fear that you must postpone any appointment with the Queen for the time being." Selphie frowned deeper, as if more weight has been added to her already existing 'load'. Balthier explained to her about the Dowager Queen's visit, and assured her that the Queen would not mind his presence during the meeting. Selphie then nodded and said nothing more.

The walk to the Queen's Quarters was much too solemn than Balthier had expected.

"Mother." Rexes ran to the Queen who was still standing by the window cuddling Princess Snowe. The little boy extended his arms for the mother to take, and the Queen unabashedly took the grown boy—according to palace standards—into her arms.

"I will do my best!" His young determined voice inspired tears from Selphie, and a sad, proud smile from the watching Judge. He pushed himself deeper into their embrace, but was careful not to squash baby Snowe, who opened her little green eyes while in the middle of her mother and brother.

"I know you will." The Queen replied, planting a kiss on her son's creased forehead. So young, and yet he is already in the habit of creasing his forehead much like his father. Looking up, she found Balthier's eyes on her, and she recognized his presence with a small smile.

"Milady."

"Balthier…" Gently breaking the embrace, Rinoa turned her attention to the man who became her first confidante inside the Imperial Household. "You must have heard about the King…"

"My condolences, My Queen."

"It could not be helped." She urged Rexes to take a seat, who quickly did what was bid and thereby sticking to his gallant promise. "Galbadia would be mourning, and until Rexes is crowned king, she would remain in a state of unease. My mother-in-law is already scouring the Court for any opposition, although I highly doubt that there is any. Be it as it may, we must act fast before our neighbors see this as an opportunity to pierce our defenses, which I am told, Esthar is about to do."

Balthier narrowed his eyes, "About to do?"

The Queen patted Snowe's back, "Yes. I have received word that their Senate perceives our loss as a major emotional distraction, and a possible liability to our cavalry. They seem to think that my son is incapable of handling the throne for some reason…perhaps his age…I would never know."

Balthier grinned, the irony of the situation astounding him, "If I may, Your Highness…I believe that the Estharians haven't heard about you."

The Queen was surprised, "Really? How is that? Surely, they know that the Galbadian king has a wife."

"Oh yes they do." Balthier nodded encouragingly, "A 'wife'."

The Queen understood the emphasis, and this unexpected trump card afforded to her was just beyond her expectations that she laughed, "I see." Beckoning Selphie to come close and take Snowe from her arms, the Queen turned to her son and saw that the boy was trying his best to understand the conversation—forehead creased.

"My darling," the Queen knelt on her knees to touch her son's face, "Mother called you because she wants you to know that this day is different from any other. You will no longer be Prince, but King, like your great father, so I must ask you to be always obedient to Mother, Grandmother and Judge Bunansa from this point on."

Rexes nodded. He was hanging on to her every word.

"Being King is not simple, that is why we are here to make sure that you can do it. Often times Mother would ask big things from you, and I'm sorry if there would be times that Mother would be awfully unfair…Do you understand, Rexes?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Very good." The Queen smiled, but before she turned back to Balthier, she whispered something to his ear. To this the boy nodded. He didn't look as unhappy anymore.

"Balthier, I need for you to make some arrangements with the other members of the Court. We do this now, and we can throw the Estharians off their seats." The Queen went to her worktable to pull a long, white veil from a beautifully carved box. She threw it over her head, covering her face as required by palace etiquette.

"My son becomes King tonight, and I, the Regent."

* * *

"Isn't she lovely, Sire?" Irvine Kinneas began enthusiastically, whispering to Esthar's Emperor in such a way that he alone could hear him clearly.

The Gardens of Shiva, the east gardens of the Imperial Palace, was blooming with the land's most beautiful flowers, accentuating the marble statues and carved fountains that were the pride of the nation. The entire garden was circular in area, with four enormous statues that indicated the four major directions, and in the center was a fountain pool where Shiva stood in full glory, holding a platinum jar adorned with crushed gems and gold inlays. The heavenly atmosphere was exactly what Lord Kinneas had in mind when he planned out his latest endeavor, in an attempt to finally redeem himself after six horribly failed matches.

_Six_! The number was unheard of, that Irvine couldn't help but make it his life's purpose to find the Emperor his perfect bride. For many years he had searched far and wide for the most beautiful damsels, researching their family histories, refining their hobbies and making sure that he only took home the best for his Emperor. However, no matter how elaborate and beautiful his choices were, the Emperor seem to find something wrong with them, his complaints ranging from their hair color to that she liked apples instead of oranges on a Tuesday.

But Irvine was not the type to give up easily, and today, he was sure that the Emperor was in for a big surprise. Today's choice was special not only because Irvine ran his usual research on her, but at the same time, Irvine did something that he'd never done with the previous matches: to countercheck with the Emperor's long list of prior complaints. He always thought that his complaints were childish, even exaggerated, but come to think of it, with every requirement fulfilled, what else could he ask for?

So in high spirits, Lord Kinneas ushered the Emperor and Senator von Rosenberg inside the garden. Before their arrival, the self-appointed matchmaker had already installed the maiden around the vicinity where Shiva's image was, probably to create a dramatic effect, and, perhaps, at the same time garner the goddess' blessing.

But little does he know that the Emperor knew exactly what he was doing. After Lord Kinneas' third attempt, he'd already acquired that special instinct of detecting his intentions, no matter how noble they are for the Empire. This was, of course, no different, for no respectable nobleman (except for Kinneas, by the way) would come up with Shiva's Garden as a meeting place to discuss current expansion issues, let alone a friendly man to man chat. Notwithstanding, his participation was imminent, even encouraged by his own Senator of Defense, for the Empire had patiently waited for an heir longer than it was depicted by the norms.

"Sire?" Senator von Rosenberg cleared his throat, forcing the Emperor to provide a suitable reply.

"I don't see anybody."

Irvine looked at the spot by the fountain again; it was indeed covered with thick screens of fog. Taking the Emperor's half-hearted attempt to participate in consideration, it was truly difficult to see the girl clearly.

"But there is _somebody_, yes?" Irvine whipped some of the fog with his gloved hand, as if it would make the entire cloud vanish altogether. He knew that the Emperor would not fully cooperate in this endeavor, so he switched gears by cutting the dramatic introduction short and called the girl over instead.

"Miss! Could you come over here please?"

A small silhouette moved, and as it drew closer the Emperor and his companions saw a petite figure of a young woman dressed in baby blue. Irvine grinned, obviously proud of his current selection. From afar, they slowly saw the emergence of white porcelain skin, and a dainty head that sported long jet-black hair that grew down to the waist. Irvine turned his head sideways to see the Emperor's reaction, and what he saw was the culmination of all his painful hard work that took two years to complete.

The Emperor's eyes turned wide.

"Rinoa?" He whispered tightly in disbelief.

A parcel that Irvine missed, for he was damn too ecstatic to introduce the young lady to the stupefied man, "Your Highness, this is Lady Garnet til Alexandros, Marchioness of Alexandria."

The spell was broken. His vision immediately cleared. She was evidently not _her_.

"Your Highness." Lady Alexandros made a pretty curtsy, sinking so low that the Emperor couldn't bear looking at her. His disappointment was so tremendous that he doubted his own voice, refusing to verbally reply and instead made a gallant bow to satisfy etiquette.

But Irvine was not to be subdued just yet, pointing out Lady Alexandros' redeeming qualities. Senator von Rosenberg sensed the growing discomfort that he put upon himself the duty to entertain the young lady, and the entire debacle ended up with Irvine failing the seventh time around.

"This is just impossible! What more could you have wanted?" Irvine demanded a few hours later when he returned to the Emperor's private study after securely depositing his latest reject on a new carriage mounted with 'parting gifts' worth several millions of Gil, and whispering words of encouragement of an even brighter future. He splayed a hand over his face, trying his best to comprehend the situation at hand.

"I have followed everything! Every single requirement—black hair, petite and oh," Irvine withdrew a little piece of paper from his back pocket, "this girl actually loved daisies! I even made sure that she did by having her go through a stupid experiment—"

"Watch your words, Lord Kinneas." Senator von Rosenberg warned, leaning his back on a wall, but his expression remained apprehensive, as if he now somehow realized the gravity of their situation.

" Garnet was the final straw! There is no one else, no else who could fulfill all of your requirements!" Pacing about, Irvine didn't notice that a courier came in, standing by the door, "There is no way that I could find somebody else…it is just too much to ask for."

The Emperor leaned back on his seat, using the young messenger as an excuse to divert his attention elsewhere.

"Your Highness, from our informants in Lucrese." He reached out his hand, exposing a neatly folded note. Basch went over to accept the letter, opening it upon the Emperor's approval.

Senator von Rosenberg read the note to himself, but before relaying the message to the Emperor, asked the courier if a reply was necessary. When the boy said no, the senator dismissed him, even closing the door himself when he left. All this time the Emperor watched him closely, his actions inspiring anxiety to a different level.

"Galbadia is crowning their King tonight, and if what I understand from the note is true, his mother is going to be appointed as the Regent." Basch's disbelief was incalculable, leaning back on the same doors that he just closed, "Is this some sort of a joke?"

Lord Kinneas deferred his matchmaking business immediately after hearing the word Galbadia, also assuming the same conclusion as the Senator, "Hyperion's Queen? What is she going to do? Throw tea parties?"

"Gentlemen, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't believe that this move was made out of desperation," the Emperor bent forward to lean his chin above his loosely clasped hands, thinking, "Remember that the Dowager is still alive, perhaps even controlling the current proceedings in Galbadia. That woman is never to be underestimated. She'd wage wars against us for the longest time…who knows, maybe Hyperion has already been dead much longer than we knew, or maybe he's not even dead at all. The point is to focus our attention to several things at the same time. Raise our vigilance higher than what it is now."

"I'm assuming that this 'coronation' is not a ploy, but also consider Hyperion's wife. I've only heard of her a handful of times before, most of which because she'd given birth to a royal child. So now the question persists, why appoint her as the Regent?" the Emperor unconsciously scratched the scar that sliced across his nose bridge, still in deep thought, "Why wouldn't the Dowager take the position herself, considering that she's more experienced than her contemporary?"

When his advisers didn't respond, the Emperor gave his answer, "The only reason I could think of is that this woman is not who she seems to be. The Dowager seems to be fond of her, and by that alone I could conclude that Hyperion's Queen is no ordinary woman."

Basch couldn't agree more, pushing himself from the comfort of the doors, "I suppose we need to find out more about this queen, then. Quite frankly, I have heard an interesting rumor circulating around Galbadia about her…I just didn't think that it was relevant since its nature is a bit…domestic."

"Whatever it is, I think you somehow found it useful, Basch." Lord Kinneas pointed out.

"Apparently." Basch crossed his arms together, his eyes going from the Emperor to Lord Kinneas and then back, "Hyperion's cause of death, as all of us know, is still under considerable debate, even in Galbadia. Their rumor mill, however, has contributed to one of the most prevailing conclusions…"

"The Queen killed him?" Irvine tried finishing his sentence.

Basch raised a brow, quite amused at Irvine's perceptiveness, "Yes."

The Emperor narrowed his eyes expectantly.

"And what's more, it appears that her lover was the one who drove the stake through his heart."

* * *

**EIGHT YEARS AGO**

My name is Rinoa Caraway, and today, I become Galbadia's 27th Mistress.

Today is my wedding day.

I woke up this morning by the urging of my excited maids. Selphie, who was also my dear friend, came into my room wishing me all the best in the world, saying that I was lucky to be chosen by His Majesty, and that this marriage was going to be the best decision in my life. While she poured me coffee and transferred a strawberry scone on my plate, she continued on by saying that I was the envy of every girl in the land at the moment, because the King chose me above all the lovely girls that was being pushed to him by the Court. She also reminded me that the King's manner of proposal was indeed shocking, for I, a person of no noble blood, was personally chosen, and given my lowly descent, the Queen's acceptance was even more startling. I looked at my scone and smiled. My face hurt.

I owe His Majesty my life. It has been five years ever since he saved me from the devastating fire during Pyreulrosa. Balamb was attacked by the Estharians, and if it weren't for the King, I would have been swallowed up by the fires that claimed the town. Now that I think of it, I actually didn't want to be saved. He forced it upon himself to save me. I distinctly remember wanting to die as he did so. My heart was just in so much pain.

_He_ left me to die. Mathu returned to the village…he told me to my face that he was the one who showed the Estharians the way, that he told them that during Pyreulrosa did Balamb completely disregarded the town's defenses. The cowardly Estharians had already quelled the village at that time, and chaos was all around.

So nobody knew that Mathu had tied me up in our house and doused the place to be burned.

I was so afraid. But deep in my heart I harbored the hope that _he_ would come and save me…_He_ said it himself, _he_ would not fail this time. As I watched the slightly opened door, and the chaos that ensued, I gradually found the resolve to completely trust in _him_. _He_ was, afterall, my betrothed. The sound of the raging fire was beyond me, and it was getting hot. I heard screaming people, running around and somehow missing the fact that I was there. Nobody heard my cries for help, but I didn't care. I knew that _he_ would come for me.

In the midst of my head getting heavy, I spotted _him_ through a fresh screen of smoke. I was relieved, recognizing _his_ blade and the red ribbon tied around _his_ arm—the Guardian had made _him_ his apprentice a week ago. I smiled, my drying throat getting heavy, but I also wished that _he_ would hurry up. My head was already spinning at this point in time, but then when minutes passed without _him_ coming back, I became increasingly worried.

Where is _he_?

How could _he_ not come back?

I was sure that _he_ saw me!

I panicked. The house was really on fire right now. The black smoke was getting unbearable, and I fought my shattering heart from thinking of the worst. _He_ couldn't have left me! _He_ just couldn't have! I wildly tried to untie myself again, but it's as if the more that I did, the more the rope seem to tighten, so in a violent surge of near insanity, I cried.

My frustration, my fears and my confusion giving way to only one word.

_Squall!_

I called for him all over and over again.

It was madness. The taste of _his_ name on my lips brought determination flooding into my senses. Ceaselessly, I started trying to pull my hands off the ropes again, and with renewed vigor did I ignore the searing pain it entailed. I just told myself that when I get out, I would find _him_…_he_ must have been caught up with something.

And there was a loud crash. I saw a clearing through the darkness. The smoke shortly diffused into the newly opened space, and I saw a silhouette come for me. _He_ came back! I knew it! I knew that _he'd_ never leave without me.

But I was wrong. My savior had golden hair. I initially refused his help because I didn't know him, and so he started calling me crazy. I completely ignored his protests. Of course, he didn't understand. Squall would come for me. I was successfully deflecting his outbursts until he threw a grand ultimatum, knocking me off of my knees.

"He's not going to come! I saw him run away from the fire! Why do you think I'm here?"

Of course that was impossible. There was no way Squall would run away from a burning house. He'd look the Guardian in the eye and beat him, how could he run away from something like this?

I was preparing to let his words fall on deaf ears.

That was until he shoved the red ribbon on my face.

"Your cowardly savior was running away when I saw you in the house. That bastard. I tried to stop him using my sword, but he wouldn't give in, saying that there was no hope for you."

No. That can't be true.

"You don't believe me, I see. Then why don't you let me untie you so that I can show you who he really is?"

Seifer chopped the ropes that fastened me on the wall. It felt odd being saved by him, most especially because it was not him who I was expecting to. He scooped me from my feet and carried me out of the house, running, just in time for the house to collapse. I looked at the shambles that greeted me outside. The Estharians were all around the village! I scanned the place for familiar faces and that was when I saw somebody lying on the road towards the village gates.

It was Squall. His forehead was bleeding.

He really intended to leave me.

I felt the world become silent, completely silent. External chaos eluded me, and a different kind of pain took over, so abruptly that I didn't notice the tears that fell from my eyes. Seifer didn't say anything. He just stood there carrying me. If it weren't for him I could have gone mad and probably had myself killed. My head was screaming. My heart spoke to me no more. The thought of Squall leaving me to die was just unbearable. Fresh tears trickled from eyes everytime the thought recurred. My throat was closing up. I never felt this weak before.

I wanted to hurl. My body began to shake. I reached my hand out to touch my throat and that was when I felt something foreign around my neck. I remembered what it was and what it meant and feverishly did I snatch it out from myself like it burned me. It was the 'Tear'. With shaking hands I stared at it for a moment. It was the symbol of his love for me.

I asked Seifer to put me down. He hesitated at first, probably because I looked really weak. Ignoring his protests, I wiggled out from him and walked back to my house—or what was left with it. The violent flames welcomed my return. I heard Seifer stand behind me, perhaps wanting to make sure that I don't run back and try to kill myself. That was when it hit me.

How can a stranger care this much for me when _he_ can't?

In pure, undiluted anger I threw the Tear with all that I have left. I buckled into Seifer's arms as I saw the stone land on the burning edifice. Squall is dead, and I'm not, so who's laughing now?

I will become Queen. I told myself all over and over again as I watched Selphie hover around me with my wedding dress. Many years ago Seifer brought me into his home as a nobody, but now look at me. I am wearing His Majesty's ring, and is about to be bound to him as his wife—an opportunity only afforded to the worthy…_I am_ worthy.

I am aware that the road ahead of me is still long, but I am no longer afraid. I know deep within my heart that somehow, Hyne made me go through all of these for a reason, and now this reason is apparent, which is for me to be bigger than I am. Bigger than I ever thought I could be.

As for Squall, he is a chapter in my life that I'm still coping with. I know in time, Seifer's love will outmatch his, he has been nothing but wonderful to me.

Someday, I will learn to love him too.

And I just can't wait for that day to arrive.


	4. Chapter 4: Precipice

**REMINISCENCE**

By _La Fata Aurora_

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Final Fantasy characters and names used below are owned by Squaresoft/Square-Enix. I have no connection with them whatsoever and this fanfiction is but a lowly figment of my imagination. Please enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Precipice**

Denzel was not sleeping early tonight.

The ecstatic fourteen year old had this in mind as he walked the streets of Satini, a small village southwest of the Estharian capital, on his own, equipped with a cutting dagger that was safely tucked on his belt. Although it was not unusual for a child his age to be still up and about at this hour, he'd been making it a point to come home early these past two months, for the sole purpose of not being scolded at by his mother who could easily yell the village inside out

Well, actually, that wasn't exactly the reason _why_. He just doesn't want Marlene, the new girl next door, to hear his mother yelling at him, and by extension, embarrassing him in her eyes.

The dirt road was not empty when Denzel reached the village gates. A group of men, probably immersed in putting in their bets for tomorrow's Chocobo race, were huddled in one specific corner, which he expected by the way, and took this opportunity to quickly cross the boundary without being detected. A couple of yards down the road, he looked back and found the men still fixated with their bets, sighing with relief that now the worst was probably over.

"Marlene would freak out." He proudly grinned to himself when he finally reached his destination. Earlier this week, a number of kids were talking about a strange breed of rabbit that was spotted near the outskirts of the village in four separate occasions, saying that it was magical, because it possessed a rare ruby gem on its forehead, which, rumor has it, is capable of granting any wish. All the girls, even the slightly older ones, fell into the consensus that it was the next 'it' thing, which left the boys with no other choice, especially those who'd want a companion during Pyreulrosa, but to find a way to acquire one like their life depended on it. Denzel, unfortunately, was one of those unlucky fellows.

But that was going to change tonight.

"Oookay…where is it?" He untied a small sack that he left hanging from his belt, fishing inside for its contents. In the dimly lighted bushes he recounted his bait by feeling them, and he soon realized that he had more than enough Gyashl greens to catch the said 'rabbit'.

Scratching the back of his head, he tried to recount where he was exactly, in order for him to plan a more effective route to catch the little beast. When he finally had it, he unsheathed his dagger, marked the nearest tree that he could reach and started going towards the east. Old Dalan, a veteran hunter of the village, had told him that the eastern portion of the southern forests was thick enough for that rabbit to live in, and most likely would be inhabiting the area compared to anywhere else. Denzel trusted the old man's instincts. He began dispersing the greens.

"Huh?" Denzel wrinkled his forehead. He could have sworn that he saw a weak glow of light. Still in the middle of scattering his greens, he rounded a tall cypress tree before closing the small ring that he made with them, planning to watch it from behind yet another cypress tree, not too far away. He was about to forget about the faint glow when this time, he heard something lightly snap; the echo telling him that it was not too far away…

Denzel stood still, slowly reaching for his cutting blade.

It became quiet. Denzel couldn't even remember for how long. This silence so much persisted that the boy thought himself to be imagining things; he let go of his deadly grip on the blade. He relaxed, bent forward, and was about to take his position behind the other cypress tree when the glow appeared again, but this time, it didn't vanish. Instead, it grew bigger, ominously, that it was too late when Denzel realized what it truly was…

The warning bell of the village rang fiercely.

It was the last thing that Denzel heard before his heavy eyes closed on their own.

* * *

"How about this, Mother?" Rinoa gently pushed the list beside the Dowager's own. The younger queen had just finished correcting the itinerary she prepared for the sennight, making absolutely sure that she had taken into account every detail that every ritual called for.

The Dowager looked it up, pressing her spectacles nearer, "Hmmm…" She murmured, perusing the entire page, "You're certainly better in this than I am."

"I'm not so sure though…" Rinoa came over and stopped behind her, looking down on the paper once more, "The purification process seems a little longer than is necessary…"

Edea smiled sadly, but it was laced with maternal approval, "Purification processes usually take long, Dear. The longer it is, the better." She looked back, raising a hand to pat the younger woman's cheek, "Seifer wouldn't mind."

It was a custom in Galbadia to have a deceased's body be purified before the wake—a symbol of cleansing and preparation for the afterlife. Frequently, it becomes the focus of the bereaved, for the funeral rituals and the care associated with it seems to be the last that the living could afford the body of the departed. For more affluent families, the cleansing process could take days, for not only is the body expunged with the 'evils' they've lived with, but are also personally assisted by a High Priest to achieve a state of 'holiness'. This is done by a series of rituals that mark the transition from a body capable of sinning, to a spirit bearing the symbol of Hyne and is, therefore, released from its corrupted vessel.

Rinoa only wanted the best for her husband, and as she paced around to rethink about the current itinerary, a horde of rushed footsteps distracted her, making her stop and look at the archway down the hall. She saw a small group of men approach the Dowager's study, and it was only when she found Balthier with them did she begin to feel this eerie sense of foreboding—that same sense that she'd feel when something truly wrong had happened.

"My Queen…" a redhaired Judge bowed respectfully to Rinoa, and then to the Dowager who was now on her feet, "Highness…"

"What is it?" Edea took her spectacles off. Flinging her beautifully arranged cape to her side, she let it swing majestically behind her like a shower of silken waterfall.

The young Judge looked afraid, of Edea or of his news he was about to divulge no one was entirely sure. Balthier sighed and pushed his way in to take control, "We have received news from our informants in Pria Durahn." He paused, and saw that look on Rinoa's face that said that she doesn't like what she was hearing.

"Esthar…has been attacked."

Rinoa didn't miss a beat, "From which boundary?" she asked.

"The northwest. The Village of Santini was burned down to the ground." The Dowager closed her eyes unto this, opening them again when as if she was done uttering her prayers.

"Santini is one of the four villages that lines the boundary between Esthar and Galbadia…who could have done such a thing?" Rinoa scanned the faces of the men. A few of them offered responses, but Balthier was not done with his report.

"A witness, now under custody of Esthar, says that the men who wrecked havoc in the village wore the colors of Galbadia. Pieces of our flag were also allegedly found in Santini—"

"What about their armlets?" Rinoa couldn't believe what she's hearing, "Whose insignia are they wearing?"

"Their loyalty…is to Hyperion, My Queen."

Rinoa covered her mouth in disbelief. Now that her son is King, wearing of Seifer's insignia is considered an act of mourning, often times done by sympathizers to the Crown. These attackers, therefore, are not acting out of rebellion to Galbadia, but instead are venting their frustrations to the kingdom's most ruthless rival.

"And Esthar? Have our informants said anything about retaliation?"

"No, Your Majesty, but since Santini is also under the jurisdiction of the International High Council, Esthar would deem this attack as an insult purposely executed by Galbadia." Balthier loosely clasped his fingers together in thought, "I humbly advice that we send an emissary to appease the Northerners immediately. This is not the time to wage war against them."

Rinoa couldn't agree more. She caressed her forehead as if she was weighing the options, turning to Edea to see if she would enforce Balthier's proposition or not.

She did.

"I must agree with Judge Bunansa's interpretation of the matter. Seifer's wake must not be besmirched by more bloodshed...that is just unspeakable." Edea stepped closer to Rinoa, that now she was standing in between her and the crescent grouping that the men had favored. "However, considering the intention of our sympathizers, Esthar's qualms would not be easily extinguished. All in all our sympathizers still intended to wage war against them, even to the extent of wearing our colors and insignia."

"What are you suggesting, Mother?" Rinoa was getting wind of something, sensing it from the quality of Edea's voice. "A special gift maybe? Or a treaty?"

"Nothing of sort…but I was thinking of something far more convincing for Galbadia's part, to show our sincerity." Edea paused, as if what she was about to say came with a lot of effort, "I intend to go and represent Galbadia as special emissary."

The room was immediately divided in their opinion, the outburst so sudden that even Rinoa was carried away by her emotions.

"Mother, that's preposterous! Those Estharians would certainly do you harm!"

"Your Highness, for your own safety, please reconsider!"

"We cannot risk so much for so little. Those Northerners cannot be fully trusted!"

Edea raised a silencing hand. Her power to restore was still indomitable, that the moment she did, the room was once again quiet.

"I understand your concern for my welfare." Edea took Rinoa's hand and then looked at the men, "But you already have Your Queen, and she has already outdone me in many ways."

"Mother?" Rinoa whispered in confusion, but Edea wouldn't hear any of it.

"This is our only choice, Gentlemen, and as far as I could see, the worse that could happen would not interrupt Galbadia in any detrimental way, for you already have my grandson as King, and his mother, as the steadfast Regent." She continued, giving Rinoa's hand an extra squeeze, "I will not let Esthar disrupt the last of Seifer's peace. I will do everything to keep the holiness of my son's funeral. My son has just passed away, and if I must, I will go to the ends of Gaea to give him the proper funeral that he deserves."

Rinoa bit her lip. The Dowager was right. Being a mother herself, she understood her twisted rationale, no matter how dangerous the consequences must have been for her. Seifer was also the Dowager's only son, which amplifies the motive even more.

But Esthar was no laughing matter. For years, tension has grown in between them and Galbadia and one of the reasons could be the Dowager herself. Before Hyperion's reign, the Dowager had held the responsibility of being sovereign of the kingdom, and most of the decisions, military or otherwise, had been instigated by her, many of which Esthar despised or frowned upon. So, it would not be surprising if they would seek to do harm on the Dowager, an act of retaliation of some sort…It is truly but a mindless suicide for her to waltz into Pria Dumrahn, unaided, and hope for a temporary resolution from a bunch of offended pessimists.

Unless…

Or maybe…

"Mother…what you're thinking is really dangerous. I will not allow it." The stubbornness on Rinoa's face Balthier recognized, that for a moment, the next thoughts that registered his mind frightened him, "Esthar would not be cooperative, our ties with them has long been fickle. However, we do have another option…and it would keep you out of harm's way."

"I cannot think of anything else to resolves our woes, Child—"

"Oh, but there is." Rinoa smiled. She smiled so brightly, nobody could have guessed the next words that she'd say.

"Send me instead."

* * *

Jecht Duvierre stood by the sidelines as he watched the Emperor swing. As a child, he already had the perfect form for wielding the blade, and as a man, he had the strength and determination to wield _any_ blade. Nobody knows this but, the moment the boy challenged him for his apprenticeship was also the time Jecht knew that his time was through—the time has come for the next generation to replace him, and that next generation was no other than the heir of Galbadia's rival.

Ironic, isn't it?

"Jecht!" the old man shook away from his thoughts just in time for him to grab a dagger that was thrown his way. He saw the Emperor looking at him quizzically.

"What?" he was back in his foul mood. Wait. He always was in a foul mood!

"You've been out of it all morning. You lost more than you could afford from Gold Saucer, again?"

"Meddling fool. I lose what I want to lose." Jecht tossed the dagger on the dirt. He shot a glance to the sky. It was such a beautiful morning to destroy it with thoughts of his little vice. "What about a round? Choose your weapon, Sire."

The Emperor raised his sword, staying with his favored weapon. Jecht nodded casually with approval, and just stepped up into the ring bringing nothing.

"I do not fight unarmed men."

"Exactly. And one day it shall be your downfall unless we work on it." Jecht wanted to laugh at his student's stance. He was always uptight, a stickler for the rules. "Your mastery of the sword astounds me, Your Highness, but unless you realize that it is both a sword and a shield, no one is to say that it could protect you forever."

Jecht raised his bare arms. No armlets, no armors and no shields. Just bare fleshed Jecht with his trousers and Griever.

"Now, let's begin!"

Squall watched him, encircling him. All these years, those eyes have grown sharper, more intuitive, that sometimes Jecht couldn't believe that he was the one who trained them. Jecht raised his arms even higher, now shoulder length. But somehow this time, he knew what Squall's first move was.

The Emperor twisted his wrist. He intended a low-cut. That was good. At least he intends to cut him. But that was not good enough.

"Focus!" Jecht rammed his hand on the opening by Squall's lower left rib. The Emperor was pushed back. "Your sword was made to cut! I am but an unarmed man! Surely, your sword could do better than that."

Squall positioned himself again, his blade fixed horizontally before his face. He held the hilt with both hands. Jecht saw him narrow his eyes in anticipation.

_Very well_. The older man thought. _Now, at least, I'm down with two possibilities._

Squall charged, side-stepped, but just knocked Jecht with the surface of his blade. Jecht retaliated by hitting his unguarded shoulder with a forceful push by the palm of his hand, coupled by a chop on the proximal arm inflicted by the same hand.

"Still having second thoughts, are we?" Jecht stepped back, waiting for him to recuperate. It only took the younger man seconds, and was once again swinging his sword in preparation for another hit.

"You'll see." A man of a few words, that sometimes Jecht wasn't sure if he was reading him correctly. Nonetheless, often times his predictions followed through, so he's guessing that yes, he knew the Emperor up to a significant level.

Jecht crooked his finger, provoking him.

Squall lunged. Jecht grinned at this. Now we're talking.

Jecht dodged and side-stepped. He managed to remain unscathed for minutes. Squall spun and inflicted the first cut not long after, but was fast to withdraw the blade away before he completely injures his teacher. Jecht shook his wounded arm, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't have."

"I'm _not_ going to cut you."

"Suit yourself." And with that, Jecht hit him using his injured hand, making the Emperor fall back on the ground, sending his blade flying even backward. Jecht cursed the throbbing pain that his arm screamed back at him, shaking it again to alleviate the feeling. "An unarmed man can always take advantage of you. Remember that."

"Tch." Squall muttered, still lying on the ground. Jecht walked over to his blade and picked it up, holding the hilt tight as he went back to the spot beside Squall.

Jecht pointed the tip on the space between his chin and collarbone. Squall looked at him suspiciously.

"You are weak this way…and this way too." He let the tip travel in a small upward curve, now stopping on Squall's left shoulder. Jecht used the sword's tip to push the bandana that covered it, exposing an enormous branding resembling a Griever.

It was an intricate Griever, made up of four branded ropes that secured a stone that was deeply embedded into his skin. The stone was topaz, and with the help of the sun's light it shone in a cool ocean blue, so beautiful, it could only pass as the Goddess Siren's tear. Squall shot up and yanked the bandana down back into its place. He gave Jecht a penetrating stare, as if to convey that he just trespassed into the forbidden.

"Your Majesty! News from Lucrese!" Irvine suddenly came running from the large wooden doorway, seemingly running for a while now. Squall told him to proceed while dusting his pants, marginally checking his left shoulder to see if his Griever was covered enough.

"The Galbadians are seeking peace after their attack in Santini…and they are sending their Queen!" Irvine was panting and he crouched, his arms on his thighs, "Your Majesty, they are intent into appeasing us after so many years…I do not know what to make of this!"

"It must be because of the former king's wake." Squall and Irvine looked at Jecht, of course the old man would know being Galbadian himself, "They hope to keep his purification process as unruffled as possible. Galbadians solemnly believe that the funeral rites are reflective of a good start in the afterlife…and for a royal king, they are usually planned meticulously, for his stature as the sole monarch requires him to have the best turnover to the afterlife…A last gesture of respect I suppose, if you look at it in a different way."

"And I should care about this? These Galbadians are certainly out of their minds." Squall was obviously aggravated, taking his sword from Jecht's grasps, "Those selfish morons. They think that I could forget the fact that they've harmed my people for their own inconsiderate needs! Of course, I would retaliate, they've never given me any reason not to!"

Evidently, he meant more than that…but nobody had to know.

"Assemble the Senate, Irvine, I need to speak with them." Squall, now attempting to regain his cool, sheathed his blade before walking away. He saw Irvine bow before doing his bidding, and turned to Jecht to excuse himself.

"I suggest that you calm yourself down before doing something harsh…" With knowing eyes, Jecht looked at the Emperor's scowling face in a mysterious manner. The Emperor missed such implication. "Why don't you listen to what their Queen has to say first…certainly you and she could come up with something…"

"Based on what I know about her, she would just cry her pretty face and embarrass me and my Senate, both of which I do not tolerate in my court in any way. Jecht," Squall grabbed his coat, obviously not intending to hear anymore, "those wretched Galbadians destroyed everything that I hold dear…you should know that better than anybody else!"

And he strode away, once again, under the watchful eye of his teacher.

"Oh yes I do." Jecht crossed his arms on top of his chest, and more softly now, he added, "That is why you have to see their Queen first."

* * *

_Maybe one day you could let me in…_

…_I would really want to know **you**._

Rinoa opened her eyes, and the first thing that she saw flooded her with a sense of relief. Her travel towards the North had been most nerve-wracking—their informants saying that Esthar still intended to retaliate—she and her escorts' lives precariously hanging on a thread. Of course, the Estharians have no reason to withdraw; they were, afterall, the offended party. But Rinoa still decided that it was an even better time for her to speak to their Emperor, to implore for his mercy, in behalf of her husband and the rest of the country. The danger that she's risking would not be overlooked…it was too much for a Queen to recklessly give up for chance.

The carriage was moving still, through the middle of the night. The draperies, their calm fall, oddly gave Rinoa's heart a tranquil beat with which it could imitate—she needed that. Although learned with the many ways of the Court, she was nervous about this current endeavor, for not only was she inexperienced with Galbadia's dealings with Esthar, but also because Esthar is…Esthar. The North has been their rival for many years—they've burned many of their villages, killed their men, and took their women. They were the most ruthless neighbor, and Rinoa couldn't surmise what would happen if she failed...What more evil could they possibly do?

"Your Highness," Selphie croaked from her seat. She sat opposite to her, adjacent to the left window. She was obviously scared for life, but was still fighting her best not to show it. Rinoa smiled sadly. Among all of her friends, she thought of Selphie as the best. The girl was like her sister, and she was there for her in the many times when she needed somebody the most. "We'd be crossing very soon."

The Queen nodded, pushing the curtain a little with her finger. It was the dead of the night—the horses hooves the only ones disrupting it—and the moon hiding behind the thick black clouds. She ignored the omen, that belief that the gods slept whenever the moon hid. She didn't want to think of anything else but being a successful representative of her kingdom, and that wasn't helping at all.

_Maybe one day you could let me in…_

Rinoa frowned to herself. She didn't understand her line of thought, wherever it was aspiring to go. It must be because of the dream…perhaps her consciousness was laughing at her now. In her younger years she had been a fool, everyday thinking that she could survive by being loved alone. But now being more aware of the world around her, life, as she knows it, isn't as simple as it seems. Just take her current situation as an example, who could have ever imagined Galbadia seeking a truce with Esthar? Life is indeed but pervaded with roadblocks…nothing is ever certain. Therefore the only thing that one could do is rise above every roadblock…changing oneself accordingly to the circumstances.

…_I would really want to know you._

She was so much in love with him back then, she couldn't even fathom that it was possible. He was usually closed up, that's why Rinoa was surprised when he first asked her to meet him up the hill. She somehow knew what was about to happen, but still, she was never actually clear about the reasons of his 'fondness' for her. But then again, now looking back, apparently it wasn't enough. He was young, and so was she, and maybe he really wasn't that fond of her to actually give up his life for.

_Squall…I wonder what you could have turned into if you were still alive?_

Rinoa rested her head back, closing her eyes.

_You could have been a hero for the king…there's nothing else that would fit you…_

Rinoa unconsciously played with her wedding ring, turning it around and around.

_The Guardian could have taught you so much more…and maybe, you would have also turned into a lord…Did you know that the Guardian had defected now, and was last seen in Pria Dumrahn serving the Estharian Maggot?_

Rinoa smiled at that thought. She liked that…_Estharian Maggot_. She decided to keep that thought and utilize the comical image in times of need. She needed every shred of confidence that she could get.

The wind seemed to have changed somehow, that now it was cool and perfumed by the richness of the fields that rolled by and by. Rinoa came back to her senses, her goal, at best, energized. She flipped the curtain a little again, and saw that the silver gates that divided Galbadia and Esthar came closer and closer.

Closer and closer, did it seem…


End file.
